I never really consider anything a “sign” from Ava.
I have had moments where I know she is there, moments where I have connected with her and I know she was with me. I cannot honestly say I have ever felt, as so many others do, that their little one is sending them signs. I carry her always with me, chat with her, and I know she is there. I do not put a lot of energy into whether she is communicating back.
Shortly after Ava died, I was praying and meditating on whether or not to pursue another pregnancy. The song “Go.od li.fe” by On.e Re.pub.lic came on the radio. Since then every time I hear that song I take a moment with her. There have been many instances where in the darkest of moments that song will appear somehow and I am grateful for it.
This week has been brutal. There have been many things going on that I cannot write about here. It has been a week filled with anger, frustration, hurt and betrayal. It has been a far too busy of a week for Beta and I. We haven’t had our needed quiet time and that is only harder on me. I am worn down.
I had to go out to the store this morning to run errands. On the way back, the song came on the radio. I smiled tiredly and spent a quiet moment with our girl. I was about a block from home and all the sudden Matt and I’s song came on the radio. It isn’t the song we danced to at our wedding; this one is too special for that… it is us, our journey. It is rarely ever played on the radio as it is not a popular song. All the fatigue, frustration, anger, betrayal, hormones and sorrow built up crashed down on top of me. I pulled the car over, clutching wee Beta in my belly and sobbed. I sobbed for Ava, sobbed for Matt and myself. I sobbed for the pain, for the fear we exist in every day and all the problems this last week brought. I sobbed until the car shook with my breaths, until I was hoarse and exhausted. And somehow the song ended, I thanked sweet baby Ava for this moment and put my car in drive.
That is what we do, we Baby Loss Mama’s. Somehow you put the car in drive again ever grateful for any moment you get to grieve, to share or release the agony we exist in.